Chapter Text
Yeah, sure, I knew this was probably a bad idea, I knew I would probably end up regretting this in the morning, but there was something so tempting about the small metal object in front of me. It seemed to call to me, soothing me into a false sense of comfort, telling me everything is going to be okay. A sob shook my body violently, and I sat on the floor of my apartment bathroom, trying to catch my breath as the small blade tempted me further. I shook my head, finally able to gain my composure. I couldn’t do this, not now, not anymore. I scrambled off the floor, staring at the blade for another moment, as if contemplating a long, morally compromising question before snatching the blade off of the counter and throwing it into the trash with the rest of the garbage. I felt a massive weight lift off my chest, allowing air to freely flood into my lungs for the first time since I was a teenager.
I opened the door and walked into my bedroom and flopped onto the bed, sinking into the pillows that, though normally lumpy and painful, seemed heavenly at the moment. I groaned, the inhumane sound echoed irritatingly off the walls. I stared at the ceiling above me, so cracked and mold that I felt it could collapse on me at any moment. Not a day went by where I didn’t question why I put up with this place. It was disgusting, way below human dignity, and the people living here were far worse, but it was the only place I could afford. I was swimming in student loans I needed to pay back, and I was still human, so I needed to buy food and all that garbage, which left me with barely any spending money left, and I was barely able to afford the phone that I had. I walked everywhere to save as much money as possible, even though my job was nearly two miles away, even thinking about the trek made my legs burn.
I felt a violent buzz in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a text pop up on the lock screen, it read out as White Gold. That was the name my best friend chose for herself long ago in highschool. We both decided we would choose names that represented us and who we are, nicknames but with more meaning. She had chosen White Gold for some reason she still won’t tell me, and I had picked Metaphorically Sane. What can I say, teenage angst.
White Gold: Guess who has the best neeewwwsss????
Metaphorically Sane: What is it??
White Gold: You’ve gotta guess duuddeeeeee
Metaphorically Sane: You paid off my student loans?
White Gold: Girl, you wish! It’s not that good, but, wait for it……I got us Hollywood Undead tickets!
Metaphorically Sane: You’re shittin’ me! How did you afford that shit?
White Gold: That’s not important! Just be grateful I love you enough to take you with me!
Metaphorically Sane: True, true. When’s the concert, anyway?
White Gold: Not for another month, but it’ll be worth the wait. Front row tickets babe!
Metaphorically Sane: No. Fuckin’. Way.
After that, we texted for a good two hours before she had to head off, something about doing laundry or whatever. I lost track of time after a bit, and it wasn’t until I jerked awake from a short nap that I realized I hadn’t done anything all day.
I’m a comic book artist, so technically, I work for myself, but I like to think that I work for the people, constantly asking for opinions or new ideas to incorporate into my stories. I always love reading the ideas of my readers, finding new ways to say a big ‘fuck you’ to all those suit wearing, capitalistic business owners that survived on the hard work of the middle and lower class. Even thinking about it made me angry, but I swallowed the hatred down, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea to let it all out at once. That was another good thing about my comics, it was a great outlet for all of my emotions that, at the same time, made readers feel like they weren’t alone in the feelings that they had.
A month had passed and the concert was only hours away, and I felt a swell of emotions bubble up inside me all at once. I was so excited that I finally got to see my idols live, instead of just listening to them through headphones, but I felt anxiety as I thought of the massive crowd that would surround me. I sucked in a deep breath to steady myself so I wouldn’t pass out in front of my closet. I was trying to decide what to wear tonight, though I know it probably didn’t matter, I wanted to look nice enough but still casual. After another moments consideration, I picked out one of my favorite shirts, a sleeveless shirt with a cat on it wearing sunglasses that had the universe in them. Even though I had bought this shirt years ago, it still fit my small frame well. I guess I hadn’t grown as much since then as I had hoped. I pulled black leggings on and my favorite black and gray checkerboard vans. I went almost everywhere wearing those vans, and even after four years of wearing them, they were as comfortable and reliable as ever. Getting ready didn’t take as long as I thought, so I still had close to two hours to kill before my friend, Laurie, picked me up for the lengthy drive to New York City. We both moved to Manhattan to pursue art careers, but the fact that several bands came to a city mere hours away from our homes was a huge plus, too.
Instead of sitting around and playing on my phone, I decided to sit and read the old, tattered book that I had read dozens of times. It was a Stephen King novel, 11/22/63; my mom had given it to me back when I was young and promised that I would fall in love with it, and fall in love I did. I read the book several times throughout my highschool and college years, loving the story more and more as I read it year after year. I killed a good hour and a half reading, and so when it got close to the time Laurie was supposed to pick me up, I rushed to grab my camera from my bedroom. Though it wasn’t a part of my career, I loved photography, and though it sounded vain, I thought myself very good at it. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to get into the venue with the camera, but I figured it was worth a shot, considering I would fight tooth and nail to get photos of the band. I looked at the Nikon D3200, smiling fondly at the camera, a gift for my sixteenth birthday from my mom. I had taken care of this thing like it was my own child, and it paid off, since ten years later I was still taking incredible pictures with it. I checked and made sure the SD card was clear before putting it back in its case and slinging it over my shoulder. Just as I did so, I got a quick text from Laurie telling me that she was here. I bolted down the stairs of the apartment building, rushing to get to her car.
“Look who decided to show up!” She hollered out the window, receiving a bitter, yet somehow loving glare in return.
“You just texted me, wench,” I teased, slipping into the passenger seat and buckling in as she sped off, glancing every so often at the GPS that was telling us where to go.
Most of the ride consisted of screaming out the lyrics of every Hollywood Undead song we knew. Though this was fun, it was nothing like the actually experience was sure to be. Though I had never been to one of their concerts myself, several of my readers have written to me and told me about their experiences with the band, about how easy going and fun the guys seemed to be. It puzzled me, how, for lack of a better term, badass they were on stage compared to their apparently sweet selves off stage. I thought about it most of the ride, hoping that I would be able to see it for myself, though I knew it was probably just a silly fantasy.
“You ready, girly?” I heard, pulling me back to reality only to notice that we were parked in front of an already packed venue.
“Bitch, I was born ready,” I smirked, jumping out of the car and racing to the front doors of the venue, Laurie close behind me.
We were in line before I heard her start to chuckle, and I turned to ask what she was giggling about before I saw her fiddling with something in her back pocket.
“What’cha got there?” I asked, incredibly curious as to what she was keeping from me. I thought I saw two black and red lanyards, but she hid them from me before I could get a good look.
“Nothing important,” She smirked, a terrible attempt at a poker face contorting her features. I went to reach around and grab what she was hiding, but she swatted my hand away as I lunged forward. We wrestled for maybe five minutes before I finally ripped the hidden items from her grasp, a howl of success ripping through the already noisy air around me. I stared down at the objects in my hands, two laminated backstage passes on black and red lanyards. I gasped loudly, my eyes darting from my lifelong friend to the passes in my hands.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I asked, shock making my voice much shakier than I meant it to be.
“I wanted to surprise you, dude!” She defended herself, rolling her eyes at my surprise.
We bickered halfheartedly until we reached the front of the line, handing our tickets to the men at the front table.
“Sorry, ma’am,” one of them said, a big burly man with short hair and dull eyes, “You can’t take that camera in there,” He told me, a seemingly apologetic look playing across his face for a moment.
“Well, what am I supposed to do with it then?” I countered, explaining that I was not going to hand it over to some stranger or risk going back to my car and missing part of the show to put it away. We bickered for several minutes before a tall shadow fell over me, a laugh that sent chills down my spine gracing my ears.
“Just let the pretty lady take the camera in,” the voice said, chilling me straight to the bone, so much so that I was almost scared to turn around, but curiosity got the better of me and I turned around to see who was speaking. Towering over me was George Ragan, Johnny 3 Tears himself. I almost passed out right there, but I fought to keep my compsure like a normal human being. The line behind us started screaming as they came to realize who was standing in front of them, and though he turned to smile and wave, he seemed to keep his attention on me and the guard, who was starting to look more than a little irritated.
“You know we can’t do that, man,” the other guard said, clearly more relaxed than his partner.
“Well yeah, you can, actually. You’re just being assholes to this cute little thing right here,” He said, gesturing to a blushing me.
Both guards looked pissed off now, but they gave up trying to argue and waved me and Laurie through. I turned to thank the singer, but he waved it off with a sly wink and walked away, not saying another word.
**
The people swelled around us as the show was about to begin, all chattering and screaming and moving in one collective mass. I held my camera tightly in my hands, the strap securing it around my neck, as I fiddled with the settings so I could get good shots without interrupting the show too much. As I was doing so, the lights dimmed down, and the crowd cheered louder as one by one, the band members ran out on stage, waving and cheering with the crowd.
“New York mother fuckin’ City!” Charlie Scene yelled, clapping his hands together over his head, which seemed to drive the fans crazy. I rolled with it, cheering and clapping as they began, the chords to Undead gracing my ears. I held the camera up, looking through the small window as I focused in on each of the band members, snapping several shots before moving on. I looked at each of the pictures, loving them more and more as I continued taking them. I was too focused on the photos and the music I didn’t notice Charlie Scene leaning down in my face, microphone up to where I imagine his lips would be.
I looked up and stared at him, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. “Looks like we’ve got a photographer in the crowd tonight, ladies and gents!” He shouted, and I could feel the eyes of the surrounding fans turn to me, leaving me flushing and anxious. “Aw, you look cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Scene sort of teased, and I could see his cheeks rise in what I assumed, what I hoped, was a grin. He held out his hand and when I grabbed it, he pulled me onto the stage almost effortlessly. I stumbled up and turned around, looking at the sea of bobbing people around me, shouting and clapping as I looked around, more nervous than ever. I tried to find Laurie in the sea of bodies, my eyes finally resting on her warm and ecstatic face not far from where I was now.
“So, does this cute little thing have a name?” I heard another voice ask, the same voice I heard at the front door: Johnny 3 Tears.
“Addie,” I told him, leaning forward into the microphone so that I could be heard throughout the entire stadium. I couldn’t see his expression, but by his voice, Johnny seemed amused, but I wasn’t sure.
“Well, Addie, can you sing?” He asked, and I shrugged. Sure, I figured I was good at singing, but I had never really done it in front of others. I explained that to him, and he seemed to chuckle. “Well, now would be a perfect time to start! Trade?” He asked, holding out the microphone and another hand which I assumed was for my camera.
I hesitantly traded him, and held up the microphone as an unfamiliar techno-y beat played through the speakers. “Just make something up,” Charlie told me, stepping back so I had the spotlight.
I waited for a moment, opening my mouth to start singing whatever came to mind.
I'm sick I think I'm sick
Sometimes I think I get like this
I bite my tongue, I clench my fists
Resist at first and then reverse
The night knows me by name
Its shadow trained to dull the pain
All the black begins to blur
Resist at first and then immerse
My voice seemed small, terrified as it rang through the air of the now quiet stadium. I waited a moment and repeated the verse with more power, my eyes shutting and my body growing tense as I sang.
It tires me, it makes me sad
To think of all the nights I've had
Eyes shut tightly, I shut down
Won't be that much longer now
In the quiet, in the dark
All my ideals fall apart
When they come for me again
Resist with everything I am
I could see the band staring at me, even those playing music, with a look of what could only be describe as awe. I felt the rage building inside me as I thought of all of the misfortunes in the world, all the greed, the hate, and of how I was unable to help..
It tires me, it makes me sad
To think of all the nights I've had
Eyes shut tightly, I shut down
Won't be that much longer now
The crowd was cheering now, singing along to the lyrics as I spit them off. I think even the band was starting to go along with it, but I was singing too loud to tell.
I'm sick, I think I'm sick
Sometimes I think I get like this
I bite my tongue, I clench my fists
Resist at first and then reverse
Life's a war, you pick your fight
I think mine picks me first most nights
If I should wake before I die
Then promise me you'll never get this sick inside
I ran up to the front of the stage, raking my fingers through my short, choppy blond hair, emotion making me lose all control. I felt eyes resting on me, but I didn’t pay attention, I was too focused on the words.
Can't undo a word I said
Years of struggle still ahead
All the trouble in my head
I wish I were good instead
I was running out of breath, but I didn’t want to stop singing. My words grew taught and clipped, but I think it only added to the overall effect of the song; bitter and vengeful.
I'm sick, I think I'm sick
Sometimes I think I get like this
I bite my tongue, I clench my fists
Resist at first and then reverse
My adversary knows me well
She's out for blood, too soon to tell
If I'll outsmart these lies of hell
And think my sick self back to health
I finished singing, letting the music fade out in the background. I would have passed out right there if it weren’t for the clapping and cheering to keep me grounded. I turned, nearly running into Johnny as he stood right behind me, I hadn’t even heard him approach. I saw a strange look in his eyes, something along the lines of curiosity and something else I couldn’t place, but it scared me and intrigued me all the same. We traded once again, my camera for his microphone, and I dropped down into the crowd below, receiving several slaps on the back and envious stares.
The concert carried on without anything else happening, but the entire time, I felt a certain pair of hazel eyes resting on me.
**
After the concert Laurie and I rushed backstage, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the band. I tried to appear calm and collected, but inside, I was screaming like a banshee. I was nervous and excited, scared Johnny would approach me, but silently hoping he would at the same time.
I heard shouting as the band ran backstage, tugging off their masks and tossing them up in the air. I smiled at their electric enthusiasm, watching from a few feet away, too terrified to approach them. Clearly Laurie didn’t feel the same way, as she ran off to talk to Charlie Scene, the guy she had gushed over since she first started listening to them years ago.
I tried to think of a way to approach the guys, but I guess I really didn’t have to when Johnny himself sauntered over to me, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He had this stupid cocky grin on his face that set off fireworks inside me, leaving me speechless.
“Cat got your tongue?” He teased, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding it out to me. “I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself. George Ragan, or Johnny, whichever you prefer,” He smirked, his voice as smooth and silky as when I heard it before the concert.
“Uh, nice to meet you. Addie, though I think you already knew that,” I joked, taking his hand and almost gasping at the shock I felt run through my fingertips and up my arm. I watched his face to see if he could feel it, too, but his face gave away nothing.
“You’ve got one helluva voice, chicky,” He praised, his hand falling to his side, as did mine. “If you tell me you don’t sing then I think I might just drop dead right here,” He chuckled, a sound that roused the butterflies in my stomach.
“Sorry to say so, but I don’t,” I said apologetically, biting down on my bottom lip. He gasped, slapping his hand over his nearly exposed chest and took a step back, pretending to gag as he collapsed onto the floor. I giggled and rolled my eyes, looking down at him as he fell into a fit of laughing on the floor, his hands quickly swiping away the tears that had formed at the edges of his eyes. He got up after several minutes of giggling on the floor, towering over me once again.
“Well, we’re gonna have to fix that, huh?” He suggested, leaning down so close I could smell the cologne on his skin and the beer on his breath.
“I guess so,” I nodded sheepishly, a feeling deep inside my gut awakening as the situation intensified, a feeling that both confused and scared the hell out of me.
“Tell me, Addie, would you be open to giving your phone number away to the lovely gent in front of you?” He inquired, his eyebrow arched in curiosity.
I pretended to think for a moment, scrunching my face up in mock conflict. “Oh, I suppose. As long as this gent promises to call me,” I proposed, seeing a fire light up in his eyes.
“I’m sure he will,” He winked as I wrote my number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him, almost gasping as our hands brushed against each other, the electricity I felt earlier lighting up my skin again. We stayed and talked for almost an hour before their manager was ushering them back through the back door. He seemed disappointed, but turned to me as he was leaving.
“I’ll be in touch, my lovely lady,” He said, taking my hand and pressing a gentle kiss on my knuckles, pulling away with a look of deep thought playing on his face. He stood there for a moment, his hand grasping mine before pulling me closer and pressing an electrifying kiss against my forehead.
He rushed off again, turning and waving before he left, taking a small piece of me with him.